


Goomhammad, Under Pressure

by Allen_Pierce



Category: Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Confessions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allen_Pierce/pseuds/Allen_Pierce
Summary: Goomhammad and Goomtholomew discover an odd similarity between themselves, but it isn't enough to save Goomhammad from himself.





	Goomhammad, Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> originally published on fanfiction.net

This wasn't the first time Mario had stormed Bowser's castle. All the goombas knew what they were in for.

But that didn't mean they were happy about it.

"Man, I just hope he doesn't step on me," one of them said.

"What are you talking about, Goomtholomew?" asked Goomhammad. "That's, like, all he ever does to us. Well, that and knock koopa shells into us."

"And hit us with fireballs," added Goomquisha.

Goomhammad thought for a moment and admitted, "And whack us with his cape, or tail, or whatever special thing he has on a given adventure. I guess he's not as one-note as I thought. Sorry I snapped like that. So, why are you worried about getting stepped on, specifically?"

"It's just, I dunno, kind of degrading. I don't think he's trying to be insulting, but it . . . makes me feel like . . . less of a goomba."

"Yeah! I know exactly what you mean, it's just that I've just never been able to put it into words."

"Same," added Goomquisha.

"But, you know . . ." started Goomtholomew.

Then there was a palpable silence.

"Never mind," he hastily added.

"What is it, man? We're all friends here, it's cool."

"Well, I was just gonna say, you know, it sucks when Mario does it but I kind of, like, wonder what it would feel like if Peach did it."

"Dude, you're scaring me," began Goomhammad.

Goomtholomew winced.

"No joke, being dead serious here, I was thinking the same thing the other day. I . . . I kinda want it to happen, not gonna lie."

"Ugh, you guys are so weird!" said Goomquisha, climbing into a pipe to get away from them.

"She's just jealous because we don't want her to step on us."

"Totally."

It got quiet again, before Goomhammad finally said "Actually I think I'd rather it be Daisy."

"You prefer brunettes?"

"Nah, man, she's just so sporty, always playing tennis and such. I bet her feet get really sweaty."

"Woah man, I don't go in for that. I don't know where I draw the line, but it's definitely before that."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. High-And-Mighty, I shouldn't have assumed just because you like feet that you'd be a total freak like me, you should definitely keep judging me like that, like I'm worse than you. Prick."

"Hey, man, no, it's not like that. I'm just saying I'm not about that. I don't wanna do anything gross—no offense—I just wanna, you know, feel 'em press down on me."

"Sorry. I was just feeling vulnerable right then, sharing something private like that. Didn't mean to bite your head off."

"It's cool. I understand."

* * *

Later that night, Goomhammad was found dead in his own closet. Auto-erotic flattening. A dirty platform shoe—from the closet of the cell in which Bowser was holding Peach—rested upon his head, full of rocks to weigh it down. It had been too much for him to handle.

The coroner, it turned out, was an old friend of Goomhammad's. He hid the shoe to preserve his friend's dignity.

The official story was that it had been an intentional suicide, but Goomtholomew knew better.

He wished he could say with certainty that the same thing would never happen to him.

He really did.


End file.
